Modern Times

In my quest to become a more well-versed movie watcher, I move into the 1930’s and onto a classic work by a film genius, Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times. It’s one of his major films that I just hadn’t gotten around to watching until recently, and now that I have, I have some thoughts.

For those of you who haven’t seen it, as usual, it features his mustachioed Little Tramp character, this time as a drone on an assembly line. The film is largely a response to economic, political, and technological upheavals during and following the Great Depression. The Tramp can’t keep up at the increasingly automated factory and ends up losing his job. While out looking for work, he gets mistaken for a Communist party leader and ends up in jail. While there, he accidentally quashes a prison break and becomes a hero. To his dismay, he loses the three squares and a guaranteed bed every night when he is rewarded by being released back into a broke, jobless life on the streets. Along the way, he meets a beautiful, young street urchin played by Paulette Goddard, and together, they forge their way through a modern world that seems stacked against them. 

 My first impression of Modern Times is how it highlights the differences between Chaplin and last week’s star, Harold Lloyd. Lloyd was all about the set-up and the gag. He loved long, intricate sequences that built tension as he interacted with his ensemble. Chaplin, on the other hand, is a virtuoso whose singular, physical, almost balletic performances are always the most important thing. The initial sequence of the Tramp trying to keep up with his rushed, repetitive job as the line in the cartoonish factory moves faster and faster is a one-man symphony of twitches, pratfalls, and physical comedy – but only Chaplin gets the laughs. Everyone else on the screen is only there in service of him. It’s neither good nor bad that his work is like this; it’s just interesting to notice the differences in how silent stars approached their work.

My second thought is that Paulette Goddard is a revelation in this film. It is her first credited role, and she makes the most of it in a fiery, kinetic performance. Many times, it’s clear why a silent actor couldn’t make the transition to contemporary sound or color pictures, but Goddard seems as though she would be perfectly comfortable starring in a 21^st century movie today. Her performance in Modern Times is one of those moments when it becomes clear why an actor was a big deal.

My third thought about Modern Times is more of a question. What do we do with great creative work made by terrible people? Chaplin was a documented predator of young girls and openly had relationships with several of his teenage co-stars. Like many, many men in Hollywood, he used his immense power and influence to take advantage of the less powerful for his own gratification. I have no problem avoiding Woody Allen films because I find almost all of them listless, self-indulgent, and nowhere near as funny as he thinks they are. But Chaplin’s films are the real deal – inventive, ground-breaking, and often startlingly funny. But what do I do about the fact that if he were alive today, leading the life he lead back then, I would want him to be in jail, not on the screen?

The Gold Rush, The Kid, Modern Times – all are cinematic masterpieces created by someone who was simultaneously a genius and a predator. How to approach those films as a spectator is a thorny, complicated question. Is the art independent of the person who made it? Independent of their actions and crimes? Or by watching Modern Times or Chinatown or Annie Hall, am I at least indirectly complicit? There is no one-size fits all answer, but there is value in continuing to assess our relationship with art, artists, and our own conscience.